


I Saved the Universe and All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt

by fireflystorm



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Implied Relationships, Poetry, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Technical Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflystorm/pseuds/fireflystorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-- Your SBURB game file has been completed. Input command? --<br/>==> Run REWARDS.exe.<br/>-- SBURB.exe will be closed. This action cannot be undone. Confirm? --<br/>==> Confirm.<br/>-- Running REWARDS.exe. Thank you for playing SBURB. --</p><p>All you can ask for at the end of the universe is to repair the life you lost. But is it worth it, if the person you love the most can't remember what you had before, either? If you can't remember that it was you who saved the universe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

\-- Your SBURB game file has been completed. Input command? --

**== > Run REWARDS.exe.**

\-- SBURB.exe will be closed. This action cannot be undone. Confirm? --

**== > Confirm.**

\-- Running REWARDS.exe. Thank you for playing. --

 

*

 

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] started pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 05:47 --

GT: oh my god! dave.  
GT: dave, would you go to bed already.  
TG: what are you my mom  
TG: ten more levels mom get out of my room  
GT: yes, dave, i am totally your mom.  
GT: therefore i have seniority AND authority! now go to sleep. it’s like, 6 am where you live.  
TG: ‘where i live’  
TG: thats the key here  
TG: youre like two thousand miles away you cant do shit  
TG: hold on im going to dramatically laugh  
TG: ha  
TG: hahahah  
TG: h a  
GT: you are the worst.  
GT: what if i read you a story?  
TG: are you freaking serious  
GT: i don’t think you’ve slept in two weeks.  
GT: i am dead serious.  
GT: once upon a time, there was this planet, and it was kind of like the earth except there was only one dominant species: humans like us!  
TG: you are seriously doing this  
TG: oh my god  
GT: so basically, there were no trolls! and it was just kind of earth, no other planets or anything.  
GT: and then the apocalypse happened.  
TG: what the fuck  
GT: shhhh! let me finish.  
GT: but these four people made it out into this parallel dimension, where they teamed up with a bunch of people from another planet and changed everything!  
GT: the details get kind of convoluted, but basically, they were faced with the kind of odds like buying two winning lottery tickets.  
TG: thats not even possible  
GT: that’s the point.  
GT: they had to face all sorts of really freaky monsters and it would have been really cool if the monsters weren’t also indestructible.  
GT: but teaming up with the aliens, they figured out a way to save the universe! by destroying it.  
TG: john i  
GT: shhh! shut up!  
GT: so they all get out of the universe and then they get four more heroes from a new one! and so these aliens and kids and a bunch of their alien friend things end up defeating most of the bad guys, and they finally make a safe place: a place where the big boss can’t reach.  
GT: which is pretty badass, since the big boss is this omnipotent and omnipresent pimp in charge of a time traveling crime syndicate.  
TG: are you even looking at the words youre typing  
GT: yes.  
GT: so anyways, they live in this universe together and they get their lives back. well, kind of – i mean, they’re like, these super important heroes and stuff! so they get medals and honors too. maybe even keys to the city.  
GT: but they lost everything when their world and universe were destroyed, so this new one is like, a paradise for them.  
GT: they get everything they lost and can live there forever.  
GT: and so the story goes! they all get old and have kids and everything.  
GT: and that’s how a bunch of kids saved the multiverse. the end.  
TG: i  
TG: where did you even get this piece of shit story  
GT: i read about it in a paranormal lore forum! i mean, it was kind of misplaced since it’s not really paranormal, but it was in the urban legends section. supposedly someone out there actually believes that’s how the universe was created.  
TG: what a load  
GT: stop being such a prick. you and i both know the story is cool even if it is totally bogus.  
GT: anyway, go to bed!  
GT: this is me, metaphysically tucking you in and putting a glass of warm milk on the nightstand.  
GT: and papping you violently to sleep.  
TG: wow ok fine  
TG: night egbutt  
TG: im sure ill have delightful dreams of fantasy ten-year-olds fighting off monsters to save the universe thanks  
TG: one day they will make tv shows about this  
TG: it will be just like in your animes  
GT: dave.  
TG: okay okay  
TG: yes mother

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] has changed their status to OFFLINE. --

 

            Dave took a long breath as he closed the Pesterchum application on his iPhone. He leaned back in his computer chair to stare at the ceiling, ironically dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars that had been there for around four and a half years – since his fourteenth birthday when they’d moved there, he remembered. That was when he’d started sticking them up there with the help of Bro’s shoulders for the boost. It had been amazing at the time and really still was that his brother had been able to lift him.

            “What a stupid story,” he mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes before sitting up and smoothing his messy red-blonde hair on his head. Inhale, exhale. Three seconds just sitting still, not doing anything. Too long sitting still.

            He stood up and stripped down to his boxers, discarding the clothes into the already overfilled hamper. Probably some racist person who thought trolls and humans legitimately had to be organized onto two different planets. Because it’s totally implausible that the two codominant species of Earth came from the same planet.

            ‘ _Wow, Dave, someone’s gotten PC,_ ’ he thought to himself with a slight smile playing on his lips. He flopped down onto his bed, on top of the blanket, sprawling so the light from the New York early morning could spill over his midsection.

            Rose would probably love that story, he noted. Rose was all over that kind of thing. Had John already told her? He’d ask in the morning. Shoot her a text before work or something. She was always up before 9, whether she had class or work or nothing. Insane, really. She’d probably do the same thing all summer, too.

            Closing his vibrant red eyes yet again, Dave listened to the traffic outside. It was fascinating how even at dawn New York City could manage to be noisy and semi-congested. He was used to it, though; not much different from Houston, aside from the distinct lack of locust chirping in the summer.

            He thought about the story John had told him because he had little better to think about. What sort of person would you have to be to escape the apocalypse, what sort of kid could do those types of things, could lose everything and still be intact after the fact? Dave thought back to when he was eleven, twelve. Would he have been able to stand up to a fiery armageddon, losing his home and the only family he had, having only three others to lean on? Would he have survived?

            No one would, he decided, flopping over onto his stomach and resting his cheek on his wrist atop the pillow. That’s why the story was so pathetic. Rose could probably vouch for that; she was the one fascinated by mental states and psychology. No kid could take that sort of thing without being traumatized entirely. An adult maybe. But not just any old kid.

            That’s why any legends about fantastic heroes were just a bunch of bull.

            Eventually he fell asleep to the sound of horns and trucks driving by, and a single bird singing somewhere near to his window.


	2. Chapter 2

            Rose stepped out of her car, feeling as confident as ever. For no particular reason, really; dressing nicely made her feel powerful. She was a little overdressed for just another day of work at the library, but she’d felt a need to dress this way today. Another nightmare had plagued her sleep as had happened several times within the past month. Sleeping in general had become something she’d begun to avoid.

            As she walked up to the sliding automatic doors of the public library, she pulled her phone from her purse where it had been vibrating intermittently for several minutes now. 5 mobile pesterchum alerts from one Dave Strider. How funny, she thought momentarily, that even since childhood they had all continued to use the same IM client as always.

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 8:57 --

TG: hey lalonde hey  
TG: ok dont even pull the ‘i wasnt awake’ thing because you are always awake early like the batshit woman you are  
TG: who even gets up that early when class is out  
TG: you apparently and also cabbies who hate the fuck out of their job and get stuck with the early shift because the gods of shift switching do not smile down upon them no matter how fun sounding ‘shift switching’ is  
TG: anyways i just wanted to ask you if egbert was blabbering about some urban legend to you too  
TT: And good morning to you too, Mr. Strider.  
TG: its alive  
TT: Did you just call me an ‘it’?  
TT: I can’t talk for long, since I’m going in for work and they expect employees to have their mobile phones silenced inside.  
TG: ok so silence it and keep talking to me  
TG: also answer my damn question  
TT: Fine, fine. John mentioned some ‘really cool urban legend’ he’d found, but he didn’t tell me any details.  
TT: Why, pray tell, do you ask?  
TG: jw  
TG: i thought youd think it was pretty cool  
TT: I appreciate the thought.  
TG: can i come and tell you in person

 

            Rose smiled down at her phone slightly. She’d not seen Dave in quite a while. She and the others – Dave, John and Jade – had been friends for quite a long time, and had communicated mostly over Pesterchum for the duration of their friendship. It was only recently they’d all decided on New York as where they would all live, finally together once and for all. She and Dave had already accomplished moving to New York, and Jade had just recently moved in with Rose.

            But it had been a while since she’d seen her sarcastic, red-eyed partner in crime. Rose and Dave had always been close. Certainly Jade would appreciate seeing him, as well. What did she have to gain by saying no? She wouldn’t have said no even if there was something.

 

TT: Feel free.  
TG: score  
TG: will there be food  
TT: But of course.  
TG: double score  
TT: I really must be going now, Dave. Some people don’t work for their brother and thus have flexible schedules and rules.  
TT: Regardless, feel free to stop by either this evening or tomorrow. Jade and I will be waiting with bated breath.  
TG: dont start the sexy parties without me ok  
TG: see ya

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 9:05 --

 

            Rose rolled her eyes, putting her phone back in her purse before putting it under the counter with the rest of employee items as such. A youngish troll gave a sheepish smile at the human as he met her eye; the only one in the library at such an early hour. She gave a smile in return before she went to the overnight return bin and placed them on the cart to be replaced.

            Going about her typical duties at the library,  which weren’t too many, Rose sat down with a spiral notebook during lunch break. One of many, really, filled with detailed notes, descriptions and chapters for her novel. But on that particular day she flipped open to a blank page and began recording the details from her dream the night before.

She recorded everything she could remember; the feelings, the exhiliration, the colors. Anything she could think of. She’d been doing that for a long time – probably since her thirteenth birthday or so, when the nightmares had begun plaguing her. That way, she could note the recurring details, note the themes, the symbolism. And there was far too much of that.

This one had been a familiar one. Horrible, huge monsters to anyone else, pulled straight from her Grimoire. Thousands of eyes upon her tiny figure. Her pinkish lips would open and her head would tilt back, whitish hair falling down her neck. As she spoke the words in the bloodfester tongues her skin would blotch and swirl till it was black, till her hair was perfect and white, and her wands – but when did she get wands? – were glowing with a white aura, an incredible and untamed power.

And the whispering, always the whispering. Like a horrid soundtrack to every dream Rose ever had. Nightmare, dream or otherwise. Whispering about something she couldn’t quite make out.

She sighed and tore the paper out of the notebook easily, folding it and placing it in her purse. Maybe at some later point, she thought, further analyzation would shed some light on it. Perhaps she would show it to her therapist, Dr. Scratch. But for now, she had other things to think about, like why Dave was using an urban legend as an excuse to come and visit. She shot Jade a text message telling her about Dave’s visiting and spent the rest of the working day avoiding thinking about her dreams any more than necessary.


	3. Chapter 3

            “Guess what, Rose!” Jade chirped as Rose entered their rather high-end apartment and placed her keys in the little bowl on the equally little table.

            “If the answer happens to regard the hind quarters of fowls and-or the fact that you found another stray animal, I don’t want to hear it,” the blonde answered as she walked into the living area where Jade was sitting.

The islander shook her head, her wide smile showing off slightly misaligned teeth. “No, no! John is going to be here in two weeks. Only two more weeks before we’re finally all together! Aren’t you excited?”

Rose let a smile grace her lips after a moment of thought and nodded as she took the Chinese food she’d fetched to the kitchen. “I can’t wait,” she said honestly, removing the little foldable containers from the bags. Suddenly, though, a door closed at the precise moment a voice spoke, “Jeez Lalonde, could your bathroom _possibly_ be any harder to find?” She nearly dropped the chopsticks in her hands, turning to glare needles at Dave.

Jade was laughing from the living room.

“Thank you, dearest Dave, for making your arrival known via courteous text message. You’re so thoughtful.”

He stuck his tongue out at her before wandering over. His feet were bare, and he hadn’t changed at all since Rose had last seen him. Maybe a little bit taller, though. Dave peered over her shoulder and reached over to one of the containers.

“What’s in here?”

Rose hit his wrist sharply with a faux chopstick. She could have been a nun in a Catholic school with her precision. Then she pointed the end of said utensil towards the living room. “One cook in the kitchen at all times. Sit, boy.”

Retreating from the kitchen, Dave and Jade could be heard talking and laughing. Of course, Rose tuned them out after the girl’s, “Oh, cool kid got _told._ ” She put the food on plates for each of them. She’d made sure to get enough to feed two more people than were actually there, since Jade and Dave both had huge appetites. After a few minutes she came out with the plates, giving the other two theirs before going back to get hers and taking a seat on the pillows placed on the floor with them.

“So, is this some kind of a sleepover?” The other girl asked, using a fork instead of the fake little chopsticks that came with the food.

“In the sense that Dave will be sleeping over, yes,” Rose answered, using her chopsticks masterfully. “But he had something he wanted to tell us about, which is the main purpose here, aside from eating us out of house and home.”

Dave shot her a look behind his Ben Stiller shades, one eyebrow cocked. “Rude,” he said with a mouthful of rice.

“Well tell us then!” Jade said, setting down her fork.

“It can wait,” answered Rose.

After they ate, he told the story. He restated every detail he could remember John telling him in that pesterlog, and then started on why it was a bunch of bullshit. Jade’s eyes sparkled a little, and it was clear Rose’s interest had been piqued. She tapped at her lips thoughtfully, while the other girl looked at Dave expectantly for more details. He looked back at her with about the same expression.

“It sounds like some kind of wacky videogame,” Jade commented with a shrug. “I think John’s been playing a lot of them lately.”

“Classic videogame mentality,” Rose agreed with a nod. “Send a group of prepubescent children off to save the world; no chance of failure with that logic.”

Dave gave a nod and a sort of frown. What was it that had gotten him so caught up on the idiotic urban legend? He wanted them both to say more, he wanted to coax it out of them if he could. Even if they just talked about how implausible it was. He wanted to keep talking.

“How would they even make it out of the game alive, anyway?” He asked them, setting his palms back on the carpet and leaning on his arms. “Honestly. If it were a real thing, I mean. You send a bunch of kids into the apocalypse, they find a way out, destroy the universe by teaming up with some aliens. Real likely scenario.”

“Well,” Rose started, “theoretically, the children in question would have to be extremely gifted. Strong physically and mentally, to go through such trials and come out fine. The odds would be ludicrously slim for their survival, much less survival with emotions intact.”

“I don’t know,” the islander piped up, “stuff like that could make you really tough. You’d have to get really strong and cope while things are getting dangerous! Kinda like an adrenaline rush – you don’t feel a torn ligament until after it wears off. Except sometimes there aren’t torn ligaments! Sometimes you just end up coming out okay with some cuts and bruises and that’s all.”

All three of the teenagers went quiet after that, really, murmuring affirmations at Jade’s point. The TV was on, but it was just background noise. Dave scratched at his head and exhaled before speaking.

“Can I just say what we’re all thinking? Talking about this shit is making me miss John.”

Rose and Jade both nodded, before the islander suggested, “Why don’t we videochat with him? It’ll be sort of like he’s here I guess, except we can’t share our snacks.”

Wondering why she didn’t think of it before, Rose fetched her laptop and set it in front of their little arc, calling up John. After a moment of dialing, his face appeared on the screen, and lit up at seeing all three of the familiar faces of his friends. They all gave similar smiles in return, waving.

“Hey guys! Aw man, are you having a sleepover without me?”

“Not without you,” Rose answered with an enigmatic sort of smile playing on her full lips. “Or we wouldn’t be calling.”

John’s eyes went a little watery behind his glasses and he grinned a buck-toothed grin.

“I can’t wait for you to get here!” Jade said with a similarly wide grin, moving so she was closer to Rose and more in sight of the webcam.

“You better hurry up,” Dave added, slinging an arm around the blonde girl’s shoulders. “I’m going to steal away both of these girls and there is nothing you can do.” He made a kissing face, before Rose elbowed him right in the solar plexus. “Jesus!”

“Just a little tough love,” she said with a smirk.

John laughed and shook his head. “Oh man, you better stay away from Rose, Dave. She’s so out of your league.” He paused, then an excited look flickered across his face. “Hey, check this out, you guys – I know it’s kind of lame, but I made this…” He held up a fishbowl in front of his webcam, with an elaborate and tiny plastic world inside, with various colors and shapes.

“Damn,” murmured Dave.

“That’s so pretty,” Jade said. “How did you do that?”

“Lots of melted plastic beads,” the boy answered with a slight chuckle. “I’m getting pretty good at all this world-creating stuff. I’ve been learning how to use software for it, too.”

“That’s fantastic, John.”

And they talked. For the rest of the evening, they talked and laughed and they were friends as a group together, even screensharing a movie. But something was nagging at the back of Dave’s mind about that urban legend. Stuck like a fragmented popcorn kernel’s shell between someone’s teeth, he thought.

And he could hear the whispering.


	4. Chapter 4

             _“Are you scared?” He looked toward her. Illuminated by a mysterious light, her pale hair was purplish, to match her pajamas. To match her violet eyes._

_“Only as much as you are,” she answered with a smirk. That smirk. They never took anything seriously; neither of them ever had. But now there was something serious to fear._

_‘Why don’t you just go back to Derse,’ he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. It was pointless to argue now. And somewhere, in some other part of the universe, the others were waiting for them to do what they’d been appointed to do._

 

            When Dave woke up, it was early. Earlier than he’d really ever gotten up of his own volition. It occurred to him after a moment that he was still at Rose’s apartment, and that the bed above him was occupied by only Jade, and not the other girl. Smelling coffee, though, he guessed where she was. He sat up and rubbed at his tired eyes before he went to the kitchen, dressed in his T-shirt and boxers.

            “Salut,” Rose said to him, glancing back as she swirled creamer into her cup of coffee. “I see you’re up before noon.”

            “I had a weird dream,” he answered, his voice coated with sleep still.

            She smiled slightly, with just a twinge of melancholia communicated through that smallest of expressions. She lifted the cup of coffee to her lips and smelled the rich scent before looking back to Dave. “As always,” she answered simply. They had both been plagued with nightmares throughout their teens. A few of their troll friends had as well. Such a strange phenomenon, thought Rose.

            “As usual,” Dave agreed, pouring his own cup of coffee. He liked it less sweet. “You were in it.”

            “I’m flattered,” she said, sneaking a teasing look at him after a sip of hot liquid. “And mildly disturbed.”

            “If you start with Freudian bullshit I’m gonna blow a gasket,” the boy threatened, pointing his spoon at her before dropping into the sink and following her to the couch. “You just give me so much to work with,” Dave heard her murmur as she sank down onto the couch with him.

            It was quiet. The only sound was the seldom passing of cars outside. It was a Saturday and far too early to be out and about. All there was for sound was the two blondes’ breathing and sometimes the accidental sound of drinking their coffees. It wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful.

            “Is there some particular reason you’re up so early? Aside from said ‘weird dream’, that is.” Rose asked him, looking over and adjusting to lean against the arm of the couch, feet up and close to his legs.

            Dave took another drink of the coffee, which was bitter in a good sort of way. Normally he wasn’t up early enough to need a cup of coffee. “That which we die for lives – may never cease views with smooth, vigilant perpetual eyes. Each exact victim, how he does not stir. O love, my love – soul clings and heart conceives, and mind leaps. And that which we die for lives, as wholly as that which we live for dies.”

            Rose looked up at the ceiling momentarily, thoughtful. Looking at her, he noted her pretty reddish-purple eyes, her smooth white skin like porcelain. If he were more of a poet himself he’d suggest that someone ought to be sculpting someone like her out of marble. “’That which we who’re alive in spite of mirrors’. E. E. Cummings was a wonderful poet.” She paused, and those eyes flitted over to him. “My favorite.”

            “Mine too,” he said with a slight nod.

            “I didn’t take you to be much of a poetry man.”

            “Only Cummings’ is good enough.”

            “It’ll take more than dreaming of me and quoting long-dead poets to sweep me off my feet, Mr. Strider.” She gave a coy look.

            He blinked, rubbing at his tan cheek. “Normally I’d be flirting, but… The dream I had last night is kind of like that poem. It was like, ‘this is the end, but everything you know is also wrong, and a million eyes will see you fail or win or do whatever you’re about to do’. Well, not like the dream was saying it, but.. the whispers were.” He paused. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

            After a long moment of contemplation, Rose shook her head slowly. “No. I know exactly what you mean.”

            Another moment of silence. The boy gave a very slight smile, exhaling in a little puff. “Is it weird if I say I just wanted a chance to talk to you by yourself?” He quickly tacked on, “Because you’re the only one who I think will tell me I’m not losing it.”

            “You’re not losing it,” she answered, shaking her head. “You’ve already lost it.”

            She met his eyes and he looked at her. A crushingly real moment. Suddenly he almost could hear his inner walls crashing down, and his typical nonexpression broke into a wide smile, and she smiled too. Rose punched him in the arm and then handed him the remote.

            “Find us a movie that you can make comments on until Jade awakes.”

            He picked out a movie – _Zombieland_ – and they watched it together, laying in opposite directions on the couch against their respective couch arms. Of course, the coffee ended up having little effect on the Strider aside from putting him back to sleep, though luckily dreamless. Still, it was a darkness filled with whispering, filled with the murmurs of memories.

            He slept until he was awoken by muffled giggling. He looked up into two vibrant green eyes, feeling a weight on his stomach and quickly realizing it was because Jade Harley was actually sitting on top of him with a black Crayola marker in hand.

            “That’s what you get for forgetting your shades,” she said with a satisfied expression, climbing off of him. He sat up and looked around quickly before heading to the bathroom to assess the damage.

            Upon hearing his frustrated cry, the two girls high-fived.

            After scrubbing off the marker from his face – which left a little bit of small green blotching – Dave sat down for a little while longer with the two girls, sitting on the floor while they were on the couch.

            “You know what I think?” Jade asked out of the blue during a commercial. “I think that if anybody could have been the kids in that legend, it would be us – and John. We’ve got… the cool kid, the brains, the trigger-happy one and the leader.”

            Rose let out a little chuckle. “It does sound like we’re all set.”

            Dave smiled slightly. ‘ _Why don’t you just go back to Derse?’_ Maybe he was letting weird things leak into his brain from thinking about something like that so much. But it wasn’t the first time.

Dave had never really believed in reincarnation, but in some other time and place, he’d been important. Even if that place only seemed to exist in his and Rose’s minds.


	5. Chapter 5

            It had been a week since John had finally joined the group in New York. They were still notably spread over the state – Albany, New York City and Rochester – but they were at least all in one general vicinity. It was sort of strange for them, a connection they’d had since they were younger. Like all of them couldn’t possibly be separated. Tied as though by some invisible string, by feelings they couldn’t possibly explain.

            John was lying on his back on Dave’s bed that particular summer day, holding an orange smuppet in his hands and turning it, making faces at its strange goggly eyes. “These things are so weird,” he said. “How does anyone seriously get off to this?” He kind of shook its rump towards the blonde, who was spinning side to side in his computer chair. It was too hot in his room; uncomfortable and humid for a normal New York summer day.

            “Hell if I know,” he answered, leaning back in the chair, staring up through his shades at the ceiling. “I think Bro needs a girlfriend.”

            “No kidding,” John answered, tossing the thing into the corner of the room. “I don’t think that ‘Hey baby, do you like smut and or puppets?’ is a very good pick-up line, though.”

            Dave smiled slightly, spinning all the way around in the chair. They’d been playing videogames together until about now, opting to sit around in boredom before they’d lay claim on the living room TV again. That would require Dave to strife with his Bro, though, so they had to put it off.

            John thought momentarily, then added, “Neither is, ‘hey, I keep having these dreams about you and also can I get you alone? But just to talk, I swear.’”

            The blonde nearly fell out of his chair, though kept his even and composed tone. “So she told you about that?”

            “Yep. Man, are you ever going to stop hitting on Rose?”

            “Are you ever going to stop denying your blatant homosexual attraction to me, Egbert? The answer on both counts is no.”

            John made a face. “I have a _girlfriend_ , thank you.”

            “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.” The other boy gave a shrug. “Are we really discussing relationship statuses and romance right now? What do you think we’re doing, having a girly slumber party?”

            “Well, at the moment, we’re just sitting around in your room,” John countered, sitting up. He leaned over to reach into his backpack on the floor against the bed, pulling out a Nintendo DS and turning it on. “But fine. I’m just trying to get caught up. A _lot_ can happen in a few months.” As he started up the Pokémon cartridge that was in the DS, he wore a very slight smirk, the screen reflecting on his glasses.

            Dave made a jump from his chair to the bed, flopping down with a bounce next to his friend and grabbing his own DS from the table. “Yeah, you’re right. A lot _can_ happen in a few months. So how’re you and Serket? Done the horizontal monster mash yet?”

            “Dave!”

            The blonde laughed as John punched him hard in the shoulder before their respective trainer sprites in the game headed to the nearest PokéCenter so the two could battle.

            Life was ideal. Dave could hardly remember having ever felt too discontented, nor could he remember anyone else having any major qualms. Dave’s brother was a Grade A dick but cared in his own ways, and let him run the record shop, bring in his own money though they were loaded. Rose’s mother had been at a disconnect with her but was paying for her early attendance at State University of New York at Albany. Jade was going to coast the fuck out on her twenty-first birthday with her late grandpa’s money he left for her and go be a wildchild explorer.

            But something was wrong. Something was unsettled in the backs of the minds of Rose and Dave both. They were somehow unsatisfied, searching out something. Dave knew it from Pesterchum conversations from summers past. Arguments, sometimes. Talking to Rose and both of them knew but didn’t want to accept. He could remember almost the entire log easily.

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 16:22 --

TG: ok im back  
TG: sorry i had to strife with bro to get access to the bathroom  
TT: Your relationship with your brother is lacking in communication and has an overabundance of violence.  
TT: Just by the by.  
TG: save me the lecture woman  
TG: its just the way it is i wouldnt have it any other way even if i had a choice  
TT: How sentimental of you.  
TG: i guess  
TT: Anyway, as I was saying.  
TT: I’ve no particular concern over your dissatisfaction. We’ve barely crossed the mark, being closer now to twenty than to ten. We are in the final stretch of our first quarter or life, as they say, should we be cursed with a century of longevity.  
TG: so basically youre saying im full of it  
TT: Not at all.  
TT: Rather, I think it will smooth itself over in time.  
TT: It’s hard being a young adult and making decisions. Hard, and no one understands.  
TG: at least youve got something planned  
TG: im just gonna idk dj or something  
TG: be like my bro make porno sites  
TT: Well, porn never fails.  
TG: thank you for your support rose  
TT: Always.  
TG: well ok i guess im gonna log off  
TG: i think im gonna play cod for the next few years  
TG: never think about this again  
TT: Suppression is my favorite coping mechanism.  
TG: you know it  
TG: see you

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 17:01 --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 17:03 --

TG: oh yeah and  
TG: thanks

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 17:03 --

 

            Something was wrong, something unfathomable. Unsettled. And it wasn’t just that he had been enamored with Rose since their preteen days. Right about when the hormones started kicking in. But that was another matter entirely.

            Of course it was.


	6. Chapter 6

             _‘I’m not going anywhere,’ would have been her answer. Under normal circumstances, she would have probably mentioned that they were beyond the point of no return, that she couldn’t return safely to Derse if she wanted to. But these were certainly abnormal circumstances._

_She could feel her heart pounding in his chest and could almost hear his. She heard it ticking like a clock, like a death rattle. They had minutes left standing there. Three._

_He looked into her violet eyes and squeezed out one rare smile. It took everything he had left in him._

_“Rose,” he whispered._

            “I came to smoke and read poetry.”

            “Well, you certainly sound like a woman on a mission.”

            Rose looked past the formidable figure of one ‘Bro’ Strider to see Dave stumbling from his room, half asleep and nearly tripping over a pile of smuppets, in his boxers. What a flattering look, she thought with a smirk.

            “Shit,” she heard Dave curse under his breath. “Bro, wouldya back off for once.” More statement than question.

            “Your brother was just inviting me in,” Rose said, amusement coloring her words. Her smile had always been like that. Knowing something everyone else didn’t, always observant and sarcastic.

“Fantastic.” Dave motioned her to his room. She looked back to see the wordless exchange between the brothers, first, however – the older man crossed his arms over his strong chest and tightened his lips into a vaguely amused frown. The younger flipped him the bird, looking silly and scrawny in his boxers, despite being almost as tall. The older slowly cocked his eyebrow and made the slightest motion with his chin, almost like pointing. Dave instantly turned back to Rose.

They went back to his room. After he’d closed the door, she sat down on his bed, then pushed herself back on her palms until she had her back against the wall. She could feel him quickly assessing her dress. She was looking more ‘Goth’ than she’d looked in years: a white tank invisible under a black hoodie, tight jeans with faux tears like slashes, a black collar around her thin neck, and makeup in purples and black to complete the ensemble.

            Conversation started abruptly and moved quickly, like it always did with the two. Like an avalanche. “Is something up?”

“I always love a visit to the Strider abode.”

“Bro’s an ass.”

“He’s charming.”

“Define ‘charm’.”

“Noun. To–“

“Stop.”

“Are you going to put on a shirt?”

“Do I need one?”

“Touché.”

He flopped down onto the bed next to her, moving back to sit against the wall as well. If it were Jade, he would have gotten dressed. A visit from John would warrant at least a shirt. But he would always be more comfortable with Rose than anyone else, if only because of how little she cared about such trivial things as ‘social taboos’ like nudity.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, offering him one and sticking one in her own mouth. She didn’t care for alcohol. It was her mother’s vice, and she’d sworn herself off of it. She’d destroy her body in another way, and evidently she had chosen to destroy it lungs-first. After lighting, she gave the lighter to Dave and exhaled a stream of smoke.

“You know, when you said ‘smoke’, I had a better idea of what was gonna happen.” They both chuckled and then paused.

“What did you come here about?” He asked again. Texan grammar. She’d have corrected him if she’d had it in her, but at that moment it didn’t matter so much.

“To smoke and talk,” she answered. “And read.”

She held up the book she’d brought with her – a thick book, with red-edged paper and a thoughtful man on the front. It read in white, thick letters, ‘E. E. CUMMINGS - COMPLETE POEMS.’ Dave felt oblivious for not seeing she’d had it with her when she came in. Then again, he had been partially asleep. Rose always came by at the same time, when she did – 11 am.

“Huh,” he muttered around his cigarette, running a finger over the book jacket’s spine. “Cummings.”

“You like his works,” she said. A statement, not a question. She paused, just long enough to take her black-smeared cigarette from her mouth in two fingers, nails painted a similar black. “Why Cummings?”

He gave her a funny look. He and Rose barely had time alone, aside from on Pesterchum. But when they were alone, the world was theirs. No one else existed. No outside circumstances. All the walls were down, all defenses were no longer at the ready.

“Maybe Bukowski, but I didn’t expect Cummings.”

Dave let his ruby irises wander around the swirls of texture and stick-on ‘Glo-Stars’ on the ceiling. “I don’t know. It’s the way he…” He trailed off, swirling his fingers aimlessly in the air. “…the way he looks at things. He doesn’t just talk about how shiny and pretty and happy it is. He talks about the vomit and the sweat. Gross shit. Things people don’t put in poems because it ruins the shiny perfect mood.”

He expected her to put in a comment, but she said nothing. Just slowly bobbed her head in a nod. Soft white locks of hair tickled the nape of her neck when she moved.

“I like the things that remind me the world isn’t perfect,” he added as an afterthought.

She exhaled smoke and unzipped her jacket to reveal the simple white tank, then shrugged it off her shoulders a bit. As she did, she answered, “Cummings was cynical. He hated the world as much as he loved it.”

Rose precisely opened the book to a dog-eared page. There were a lot of those. Both of them read the poem on the page that her fingers rested on.

 

_since feeling is first  
_ _who pays any attention  
_ _to the syntax of things  
_ _will never wholly kiss you;_

_wholly to be a fool  
_ _while Spring is in the world_

_my blood approves,  
_ _and kisses are a better fate  
_ _than wisdom  
_ _lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry  
_ _\-- the best gesture of my brain is less than  
_ _your eyelids’ flutter which says_

_we are for each other: then  
_ _laugh, leaning back in my arms  
_ _for life’s not a paragraph_

_And death i think is no parenthesis_

            Reading poetry, of course, never had warranted a particular amount of discussion. “I agree,” Dave murmured. They kept reading, disposing of their ashes in a little ash tray that had originally been between them, until Rose set it on her thigh so they could sit hip-to-hip, the book between them.

            Of course, eventually it fell into reading splayed out on the bed, and then watching movies, playing PS3 games. It bled into the late night, past midnight.

            And then he kissed her.

            It wasn’t uncommon, and they’d kissed before. Dave had kissed others before. Plenty of girls and boys. Loneliness was the worst fate and he would never be subjected to it; plenty of flings and open relationships were better than having to trust himself with commitment. He currently had a ‘girlfriend’, even. But she tasted like bubblegum and knew he slept with some others, had his fun.

            Kissing Rose tasted like primrose perfume, spearmint and cigarettes. Uniquely her.

            When he kissed her, for the first time in a long while, it was just reaffirming that relationship. They’d always be there for one another. Always give each other happy kisses and be able to lean on one another. It didn’t really mean anything about love. Kisses don’t equal love, Rose had said once.

            But sometimes he wanted them to.

            Still, the way they could sometimes touch and kiss was fantastic. He didn’t want her to be just another of the girls who melted at his smile, or a punk boy he’d seduce with talk of music, tats, deejaying. It was better this way.

            Later on, they were curled on the bed. Rose was curled into his arms, the poetry book pressing against her stomach flatly. She exhaled, the thought of sleep criminal, even to her tired mind. Being awake was more escape than sleeping; sleep trapped her in a swirl of confusing symbols and emotions she couldn’t decipher. That was a worse fate than kisses, she thought with a tiny smile.

            “You feel like it was us,” she said simply, letting the words hang in the air of the bedroom. The window was low enough, and she was close enough, that she could see through the blinds and outside to the dark sky. “The legend,” she clarified. “There’s a name for that. You hear something, convince yourself it was you even if you can’t remember it. Build memories around it.”

            She could feel Dave’s even breath against her back. Then he took a deeper breath and exhaled it, and she felt it tickle at her ear. “The memories are there, Rose,” he answered. “Don’t pretend you and your quack therapist haven’t been trying to figure it out. They’re not just dreams. You know they’re not.”

            His hand tightened on her forearm as he spoke.

            “We were practically raised by technology, Dave. It’s not uncommon for those like us to exaggerate reality. The possibilities…”

            They both went quiet. The only sound in the room was the whirr of the fan blowing over them and their own breathing. Dave shook his head slightly and set his cheek against hers.

            “One day we’ll figure it out,” he said.

            She curled her fingers around his hand, staring straight forward, out the window. Letting her mind escape. _No,_ she wanted to argue, _I am content right here. I am content with not knowing why._ But even her subconscious knew that was a lie.

            Rose closed her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

_Now they weren’t looking at each other. But he felt her hand reach out for his in the expanse, in the nothingness. He felt one white, skinny finger touch his. Almost like a child, reaching out for a pinky swear. He turned his hand and took hers in his, intertwining their fingers. He had never been one for leaving famous last words. Why be remembered by the very last thing to trickle out of your dying mouth? But now he had to force his voice to be even with the weight of his words._

_"If we die now," Rose squeezed his hand, "this will have been enough."_

_But the meager five minutes they’d been alloted to wait for their death were up. The words were swallowed by the explosion._

            Rose awoke in a cold sweat. This was not a particularly strange way for her to awaken, all things considered. She had far more nightmares than she did any other form of dream, including the sort of sleep where you drift into the blackness and remember nothing of the visions aside from primal emotions.

            The only thing particularly unique about the experience of waking up that particular day was that, rather than sitting up in her room, comforted by the various instruments and laying across from a still-snoozing Jade Harley in the other bed, she was locked in an arm that kept her from the theatrics of sitting up so dramatically. A familiar arm – Dave, of course, was holding tightly to her and snoring softly.

            “Oh, right,” she whispered to herself, letting her pulse slow down. Her voice was barely audible, though she knew that neither her voice nor any of her not-particularly-substantial movements would stir him. At the same time, though, it was excrutiatingly _nice_ to not have that privacy, in some way, she thought. Because Dave was there, and the weight of his semitan arm snaked around her waist was a reminder of that. He was inexplicably there and basking in thereness, and no matter what her whisper-filled dreams told her, he was alive and well.

            She wormed out of his grasp a bit to reach for her notebook – another minor item she’d brought along. His forearm fell away from her waist and landed innocently on her thigh. She felt herself flush slightly and made an irritated face as though her expression would certainly teach his arm to be more careful next time, then relocated the limb to the blankets. Dave shifted so he was laying on his back, but was still asleep.

            This was her dream diary. The latest one, anyway. She flipped to the last entry, with details about the last nightmare she remembered. The back of the page was empty and she began to sketch, early afternoon light filtering through the blinds in little strips of gold across her musician’s fingers. She sketched the device like her life depended on it, her fingertips squeezing the mechanical pencil she’d snatched from Dave’s table as though intending to break it in half just like that.

            She sketched a machine. All science-fiction, edges and silver and little lights adorning it like a wacky Christmas decoration. All kinds of wires and seals. Two tubes with some kind of liquidlike something inside. A huge machine. And then the thing in the middle: some kind of shape, a ball but with a plethora of triangular faces, with one face cleared black. Something written there.

            _‘5:16.’_

            “Whatcha sketchin’, sweetheart?” Dave drawled, slumping and sitting up at the same time, resting his chin on her shoulder with the teasing maybe-not-teasing he always had.

            “Nothing,” she gasped, heart doing an acrobatic fucking pirouette in her chest. The Strider almost never woke up that quietly – it was always full of groans and curses at the sun for daring to shed its sleep-invasive light on New York City.

            He looked down at the notebook; closing it now would be too suspicious, she’d decided, and facing him seeing it was better than facing him thinking she didn’t trust him. She shrugged her shoulder away from his chin and he sat up proper, looking over the page.

            For a moment, Rose almost legitimately expected him to say what everyone else always did – ‘that’s nice’ or ‘that’s some talent’ or something of the like.  But that – _that_ would be stupid.

            “That…” He said, recognition plastered all over his face. “That’s the _bomb_.”

            The way he said it registered in her mind. It wasn’t ‘that’s a bomb’. It wasn’t surprise or basic recognition of the construct. It was recognition of a _specific_ construct. It was _the_ bomb.

            “Bad dreams,” she answered simply, continuing to darken the numbers in the triangle viewport on the construct. _5:16._ Darker and darker. _5:16._ Five minutes and sixteen seconds that those poor saps – but what poor saps? – wouldn’t see the explosion coming.

            “Rose,” Dave breathed. His voice sounded almost sharp, angry. Forceful. “Rose, don’t you _pretend_ like this isn’t it, like this isn’t the bomb, that you don’t remember–“

            “–I _don’t_ remember–“

            “–those five minutes in limbo–“

            “–and I have no idea what you’re–“

            “–when we _fucking died together!_ ”

            “–what you’re even on about!”

            The two voices clattered like breaking dishes in a midmorning silence. If there had been birds chirping outside the window, they were certainly gone now. Bro slept harder than Dave did, so there was no worry about him waking up. Even if there was, though, they wouldn’t have worried about it. Their attention was focused on the mess they’d just made with their metaphorical broken-glass exclamations.

            “I spent last night remembering,” he said carefully, voice soft to contrast the way he’d just snapped at her. “I remember it. Just – bits and pieces. But you don’t.”

            “I don’t _remember_ anything except _delusions_ of a mind partially _ruined_ by hallucinogenics, no thanks to your help in motivating me to quit,” she answered grimly. Her voice was all ash and knives; she couldn’t help it now. It was too late to tame her fire.

            Dave looked like he was legitimately trying to hold back wild horses that were begging to burst out of his chest and run amok in the square of his room. Like he almost wanted to let them. “Don’t say that.” He searched for the words to say. His fingers made little grasping motions at the sheets, searching for something there, too. “You’re premier in telling people that their nightmares all have meaning, and things don’t just pop up because you want them to. Everything is rooted in your _subconscious_ and your _memory,_ and nothing is left up to chance.”

            Rose didn’t want to listen to it any more. Not another second, though the smell of Dave’s sleep-scented whisper made her want to lie back down, say ‘okay’ just to make him be quiet, salvage a few more minutes of peaceful warmth. That was tempting. But not so tempting that it stopped her from pulling herself out of the bed and pulling on her jeans, her hoodie.

            “You’re not an authority on what my subconscious may or may not decide to tell me through use of various science fiction tropes. _Now,_ ” she said sharply, emphasizing the ‘now’ with her tone and extension of her hand, “hand me the journal.”

            He did so, not breaking her gaze for a moment.

            She grabbed her book and her cigarettes, then gave a look back to him after sliding on her little black ballet flats. He was making an unreadable face at her; half patented Strider poker face and half a combination of pleading and anger.

            “Don’t be mad,” he finally said, looking deflated now, anger mostly gone out of his eyes.

            Wordlessly, Rose left.


	8. Chapter 8

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 14:11. --

TG: paging dr lalonde  
TG: i have an ache that only you can cure  
TG: ok that was stupid  
TG: nurse strider has an urgent page please come to the emergency room right fucking now and dont knock anyone over on your way down  
TG: seriously rose why dont you just log off or something  
TG: youre enjoying this arent you  
TG: me begging at your heels like some kind of poor misguided and abused puppy led to believe that you would take mercy and feed me  
TG: well guess what rose i am pulling out the fucking puppy eyes  
TG: damn straight can you resist these big red orbs all shiny and sad  
TG: i concede  
TG: you win for now  
TG: dont think this is over

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 14:49. --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 17:27. --

TG: hey rose guess whos back  
TG: back again  
TG: dave is back tell a friend  
TG: back in town callin this block my own  
TG: ive got my possé here gonna make this my home  
TG: camped out on pesterchum but hold the phone  
TG: ugh own and home dont even rhyme  
TG: is that not a sign of me being desperate  
TG: its clear you need a few more hours to steam  
TG: i can take a hint obv  
TG: dunno what would ever make you think otherwise  
TG: i am the smoothest customer  
TG: i am the taker of hints  
TG: and now i shall vanish into a puff of smoke for your very own amusement  
TG: are you watching  
TG: poof

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 18:01. --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] at 18:02. --

TG: yo tz have you heard from lalonde  
GC: NO SUCH LUCK, C1T1Z3N  
GC: WHY DO YOU 4SK?  
TG: because ive been pestering your seer sister all day and shes still not answering me  
GC: 1 H4V3 4BSOLUT3LY NO 1D34 WHY SH3 WOULD B3 DO1NG TH4T  
GC: 4ND B3FOR3 YOU 4SK, TH4T W4S 4CTU4L S1NC3R1TY, Y3S  
GC: 4LSO 1S C4LL1NG M3 4 S33R SOM3 K1ND OF L4M3 BL1ND JOK3  
GC: 1 TH1NK MR 4PPL3B3RRY BL4ST M4D3 SOM3 COMM3NT 4BOUT S33RS TOO BUT 1D JUST * LOVE * TO B3 L3T 1N ON TH3 JOK3 >:?  
TG: oh my bad rezi  
TG: its just a dumb thing i heard somewhere feel free to dump all the blame onto this mr appleberry guys shoulders i definitely heard it from him after all  
TG: dont tell him i said that  
GC: WH1L3 1 T4ST3 TH3 D1ST1NCT T4NG OF 1NS1NC3R1TY, 1 W1LL D1SM1SS 1T ON TH3 GROUNDS TH4T 1NT3RROG4T1NG C4PTOR 1S 4 TON OF FUN >:]  
TG: awesome  
TG: well im gonna go pester someone else for info aka lay on my bed and contemplate my life and my choices  
GC: WH3N YOU F33L L1K3 T4LK1NG 4BOUT 1T YOU KNOW WHO TO P3ST3R >;]  
GC: F4R3W3LL BR4V3 C1T1Z3N  
TG: later rez

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] at 18:14. --

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] at 18:16. --

GC: H3LLO TH3R3 ROS3  
TT: What an unexpected yet completely welcome surprise.  
TT: What brings you to my Pesterchum, Miss Pyrope?  
GC: OH NOTH1NG R34LLY  
GC: SOOO HOWV3 YOU B33N  
TT: I’ll dismiss your apparently beating around the bush and answer that I’ve been doing fairly well as of late in the few days since we’ve last spoken.  
TT: And how are you doing?  
GC: 1V3 B33N F4NT4ST1C  
GC: GOT LOTS OF L3G1SL4C3R4T1NG TO DO 4ROUND TH3S3 P4RTS, WH4T W1TH MR 4PPL3B3RRY 4ND H1S CONSP1R4C13S  
TT: Sounds like a pleasant evening as usual.  
GC: V3RY! 1 4LSO JUST F1N1SH3D T4LK1NG TO M1ST3R 1 DONT KNOW 1F 1M R34DY FOR 4 MO1R4LL3G14NC3  
TT: Clearly you’re still slightly upset.  
GC: W3LL, 1TS CL34RLY S3R3ND1P1TY, BUT H3LL COM3 4ROUND  
GC: SP34K1NG OF, 4R3 YOU 1GNOR1NG H1M OR WH4T  
TT: I simply knew this message had to have an ulterior motive.  
TT: Yes, I am currently ignoring him.  
GC: 1 H1T TH3 N41L ON TH3 H34D >:]  
GC: 4R3 YOU GO1NG TO 3V3R T4LK TO H1M 4G41N?  
TT: Eventually.  
GC: 3XC3LL3NT  
GC: TH4NK YOU FOR 4LL YOUR 4SS1ST4NC3 1N MY 1NV3ST1G4T1ON >:]  
GC: YOU H4V3 PROV3N YOURS3LF 4N 1ND1SP3NS1BL3 FORC3 1N TH3 4LL S331NG BL1ND 3Y3 OF TH3 L4W  
GC: 4LSO GO T4LK W1TH COOLK1D 4LR34DY  
GC: BY3!

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] at 18:27. --

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:33. --

TT: Dave.  
TT: Are you there?  
TT: Sigh. I’m getting tired of play Pesterchum tag.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:40. --

TG: oh fuck me i was eating dinner

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 18:43. --

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 20:05. --

GT: rose, hey, rooose!  
GT: earth to rose! paging rose!  
GT: one of these is going to work, i guarantee.  
TT: Oh, hello, John.  
GT: called it.  
GT: what’s up with dave? i seriously think the guy is going to tear his hair out.  
GT: i think he might already be in the process of that.  
GT: and i don’t know about you, but i don’t really want a bald best bro.  
TT: Good lord.  
TT: I’m sure he’s fine. Just a little wound up, I suppose.  
TT: Though, who’s not, these days?  
TT: Anyway, I’m sure that in a few hours he’ll either forget about it or fall asleep. That, or immerse himself in other activities as distraction and lose interest in whatever it is he’s on about.  
GT: … i am seriously getting the vibe there’s more to this than you’re saying there is.  
TT: I have no idea when I gave that implication.  
TT: You are clearly wracked with grief over our dear friend’s impending hair loss. Go have a cup of tea and calm yourself.  
GT: i’m on to you, rose!  
GT: on. to. you.  
GT: i’ll be watching!

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 20:12. --

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] at 20:14. --

GG: okay what the heck is going on today??  
GC: SOM3TH1NG 4BOUT L4LOND3 4ND COOLK1D 4ND S33RS  
GC: 1 4M JUST 4S CONFUS3D 4S YOU 4R3  
GG: sigh!!

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] at 20:14. --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 21:01. --

TG: hey lalonde  
TT: Hello, Dave.  
TG: oh my god  
TG: thank the merciful and possibly also mirthful messiah(s)  
TT: If you start honking, I am leaving the conversation.  
TG: are you mad at me  
TT: Well, you certainly get straight to the point.  
TG: i have spent all of today and the better portion of yesterday trying to talk to you  
TG: so yes i have wasted enough time  
TT: The answer to your inquiry is no.  
TT: No, Dave Strider, I am not mad at you and in all the time we have known each other I cannot remember one instance of ever having been mad at you for an extended period of time.  
TG: so youre not pissed  
TG: thank the merciful gods again  
TT: I reiterate: one honk and I’m out.  
TG: im not gonna start honking who the fuck do you think i am a cultist  
TG: dave strider lets no religion own him  
TG: but im just  
TG: thanks for not being pissed i guess  
TG: im really sorry about the argument and shit  
TT: The past is in the past, my darling. Fret not.  
TT: Now, I’m going to go immerse myself in a fascinating book I picked up after work today.  
TT: And I will talk to you tomorrow.  
TG: see ya rose  
TT: Talk to you soon, Dave.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 21:09. --


	9. Chapter 9

_In the explosion, he didn’t see his life flashing before his eyes. He didn’t have some meaningful last thought like his last words were. He didn’t see the light, he didn’t hear a voice, didn’t feel God’s hand wrapping around him like a forgiving vice to pull his soul away. He felt the fire like his body was incinerated to the marrow, felt Rose’s hand slip out of his. He heard only the vast explosion, saw only green. Tasted green, felt green. It burned so bad._

_And then nothing hurt. It was just dark._

            “What do you think?”

            “Honestly? It may not be exactly what you want to hear, but I believe Dave has a point.”

            Rose sighed and looked up at the ceiling. It was patterned with little swirls of millions of dots; during silences in her appointments she’d often found herself looking up and imagining she saw various Eldritch creatures within them. Her therapist, Dr. Scratch, was an understanding man who was excellent at his job, knowing the way almost every mind worked. She’d seen him in her dreams, too, but in a different form. He never made her talk if she didn’t want to, but somehow she always ended up spilling one way or another.

            “Perhaps you should start taking your dreams more literally. You’re  a smart girl, and I think that if anyone can shed light on these things it’s you. What is it that makes you so afraid to accept what he’s saying, or even take it into consideration?”

            She leaned back on the couch, violet eyes falling to her lap. What was the answer to that, she wondered? Why _did_ she hate the idea? She thought about her dreams, about her death, about long expanses of time and explosions and blood. About her mother, then, and about graduating early and having such a ‘bright future’ ahead.

            “Because,” she found herself answering, “I don’t want to learn that everything in this life is just the product of another.” The words were just flowing out of her mouth now, as if streaming directly from her subconscious. “I don’t want this to be the second try or to find out that I made promises in some other life, where I was _different_ , that I can’t fulfill. I’m not her, I don’t think. Your experiences shape who you are.”

            Scratch sat in his chair after that, just the same as he always did. The lines on his face gave no indication to whether they were caused by smiling or perhaps by scowling. Rose had always found herself wondering what color his hair had been before it went white with age; she couldn’t imagine him any way other than the way he was now. As though even as a child he’d had a face set with wrinkles and hair white as fallen snow.

            Rose waited momentarily to see if he would say anything. Normally he didn’t, and if he did it always came almost immediately, like he’d known exactly what he’d say for the past hour and was just waiting for her to let him say it. But his silence was always intent to keep Rose talking, to promote thoughts to flow naturally into one another. She let out a soft sigh.

            “Back on the subject of my dreams,” she started, “I believe it’s just inherently hard to take something so nonsensical seriously. The mechanics make sense, really, but the main villain of my dreams is a three-legged, bipedal, carapacian dog creature with one wing, who is also omnipotent. And then there are… timelines, deaths, so much symbolism I could fill a landfill with notes – incidentally, you ought to add a recycle bin to your office – …”

            The man gave a slight, knowing smile, standing from his spot to approach the bookshelves that lined the walls around his mahogany desk (at which he only rarely sat). “There is an author I adore, who once said that you have to look at a bigger picture, although it’s hard to see.” He pulled down a huge tome with what appeared to be very little effort despite his age and tiny stature, long fingers behind white gloves finding just the exact page he needed, as though by magic.

“She wrote that you must see beyond this universe and the next and see there are thousands of very sheer copies, doomed ones perhaps, and in every single one just one different thing happened; a butterfly was swept in the opposite direction fifteen years ago, and now there’s a woman for president in that one. We are the bacteria under the microscope; we cannot see the bigger things looking down upon us, so we must create their visage best as we can in our mind’s eye and understand that they are there. That there is more. We must keep our minds open to these possibilities. We must keep our minds open, to realize the preposterous is probable in this part of the paradox we live in.”

Rose took a long moment to process all of that. The preposterous is probable in this part of the paradox. What a cute little alliteration, she thought to herself, wondering if the author had put that in with a gentle smile on her wise face, hoping someone else might notice such a detail. “She sounds like quite an author,” she said finally, looking at the tome, trying to discern a name on the spine. As if noticing her efforts, Scratch closed the book with a slight puff of dust and replaced it on the shelf.

“She is,” he answered in return, that knowing smile still on his lips. “One day I’m certain you’ll meet her. Your paths are more or less destined to cross.”

He returned to the armchair across from the couch where Rose was sitting, her knees up to her chest. She played with her sleeve, then looked at her therapist with expectant eyes. “So, what should I do now?”

“Your homework,” he started, “is to try to understand a world in which your dreams will sew themselves together seamlessly, and perhaps also understand that this world may have existed at one point in time. As a writer, I know you can accomplish this.”

Rose took a moment to look away, then looked back. “And what’ll I do with Dave?”

“I cannot predict what you’ll do, or want to do. I can only tell you what I’ve observed and give you suggestions.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“Honestly, Rose. Ask him to lunch. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Enjoy yourself, primarily. You don’t have so much down time and you ought to stop being so very tense over situations that don’t require it. Now shoo. Your appointment is over.”

She glanced over at the clock, and certainly enough it was time for her to be going. Right on the dot, as always, though it often felt like hours spent in her appointments. Sometimes it just seemed as though time passed at different rates in there.

“Goodbye, Scratch.”

“See you next time, Rose.”


End file.
